


Seven Righteous Women (Save America)

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Action/Adventure, American Politics, BAMF Women, Gen, Military Inaccuracies, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: This is a work of fiction and as such does not constitute a threat to any actual American President, real or fictional, living or dead.*waves 'Hello' to the NSA Agent reading this*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction and as such does not constitute a threat to any actual American President, real or fictional, living or dead.  
>  _*waves 'Hello' to the NSA Agent reading this*_

“Are we clear?”

“Looks quiet from here.”

“Clear here.”

“Windward, are we good to go?”

“Anytime. The security system thinks you’re a scheduled Amazon delivery.”

“Grizzly, Nitro, we’re going in now.”

Two ‘ _Rogers_ ' came over the radio. Colonel Allison Wallace (retired) nodded and ex-Sargents Clarissa Jackson and Michelle (Mickey) Shields moved into position. Shields (call-sign _Pitbull_ ) reached out and turned the doorknob. The three held their collective breath as they waited for the wail of an alarm system.

“Still green?” Colonel Wallace (call-sign _Big A_ ) whispered into her comms.

“Affirmative,” said ex-Captain Elaine Larsen (call-sign _Windward_ ) from her position hunched over a laptop in a panel van half-a-block away.

Wallace nodded again, and Shields pushed the door open. The three women crept into the house silently and, as a unit, started to sweep room to room. Shields stood guard at each doorway while Wallace and Jackson searched each room quickly, checking for unexpected occupants and looking for the two million dollars in drug money they believed (hoped) was somewhere on the premises. The formal living and dining rooms, guest bathroom, kitchen, and laundry/utility room were all a bust, so they headed downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs, Jackson held up a hand for ‘halt’.

“Windward, do you have anything on a door jam sensor on the lower level?” Wallace asked.

There was a brief pause. “No, nothing like that connected to the security system.”

“What do we do?” Shields asked softly. The unsaid ‘ma'am’ hung in the air. Wallace didn’t answer. Jackson was tracing the wire back along the wall to where it disappeared under a painted-over bit of molding.

“Looks like part of an old analog alarm system. Might not even be still active,” Jackson said, looking up at the other two.

“Options?”

“Cut the wire, hope for the best, deal with the worst,” said Jackson.

“Check the rest of the house, disable the bad guy, then come back and cut the wire,” said Shields.

Wallace nodded thoughtfully and clicked her comms on. “Nitro and Grizzly be warned that we might be about to set off an alarm. If you hear it, fall back to the van as discretely as possible. If there’s no alarm, hold your position." Then she said to Shields, "Go back to the top of the stairs. If an alarm sounds, get to the bad guy and put him down." Shields nodded and moved. Wallace hit her comms again. "Everyone clear?”

Three ‘ _Clears_ ' came over the radio. Wallace nodded, then said to Jackson, “Cut the wire.”

Jackson pulled a multi-tool out of her cargo pants and cut the wire. Nothing happened. “Everyone hold position while we check out this room.” Wallace said, then nodded as Jackson signaled ‘I’m going in first.’

Jackson opened the door and felt for a switch. The illuminated room looked like a cross between a Hugh Hefner penthouse photo shoot and someone’s bad idea of a Victorian gentleman’s club. The walls were covered in gold lame paper, and a 1970s leatherette-covered bar stood in the corner of the room, but the rest of the furniture was faux-antique and covered in red velvet. Next to each chaise-longs was a brass spittoon. Jackson gave Wallace a look, but Wallace just shrugged. “No accounting for taste. Look for a safe.”

“Or a suitcase?” Jackson said, pointing to the incongruous aluminum case sitting openly on the bar.

“How are you at combination locks?”

“Most of these things are made cheap in China.” Jackson pulled her multi-tool back out of her pocket and spun the case around to expose the hinges. A little judiciously applied pressure and the hinge pins popped out, a little more and the clasps snapped. There were now two halves of a suitcase, one half containing stacks of bills.

“That look like two mill to you?” Jackson asked.

“We’ll count it later,” Wallace said. “Figure out a way to put that case back together so that we can carry it." She clicked her comms again. “Nitro and Grizzly, fall back to your original positions and stay out of sight. We’ve got the package and we’re heading out.”

Jackson was lashing the suitcase back together with a length of paracord. Wallace moved to the doorway, motioning for Jackson to follow. “Are we clear?”

“Clear,” said Shields from the top of the stairs. Wallace headed up. Jackson turned out the light and closed the door behind herself, then followed. The three walked softly down the corridor, retracing their steps to the front door. Shields stopped at the front door, and Wallace clicked her comms back on. “Windward we’re ready to come out.”

“Okay, give me a sec to finesse the alarm.”

“Roger that. Grizzly and Nitro, as soon as we signal that we’re out, fall back to the van."

"Give me another minute for the door," Larsen said over the radio. "Telling the security system to completely ignore an event is trickier than spoofing it."

"Take your time, we're good to hold here," Wallace said. She glanced at Jackson and Shields, and got nods of confirmation from both of them. She went back to her radio. "Hawkeye check in, what do you see?"

"Nothing that shouldn't be there. All quiet."

"Daytona, check in."

"All clear here. Ready to move as soon as you give the word."

"The alarm should be disabled," Larsen said.

Shields was reaching for the door handle but stopped when Wallace said, "Should be?"

"Never trust computers," Larsen's voice was sardonic even over the poor connection. "And especially never trust someone who say's they're sure a computer will do what it's told."

"Noted," Wallace said, and nodded at Shields.

The door handle turned, and the house stayed quiet. The three crept out, closing the door carefully behind themselves, and then went straight down the front walk as if they were leaving a business meeting or a cocktail party. As they got to the hedge that bordered the gate, Wallace said, "We're out. Grizzly, Nitro, fall back and rendezvous at the van. Hawkeye, keep watch until we're rolling then meet us at the pick-up. Daytona, start your engine."

In the quiet of the night, they could hear the low rumble of the van's engine come to life a block away. They walked briskly but as casually as they could manage down the sidewalk and rounded the corner. An anonymous white van was parked across the road, and as they headed towards it, two figures in black dashed across their path and up to the back doors. One of the doors opened, spilling light onto the street and illuminating the interior just enough to show a third figure dressed in utility coveralls, hardhat included. The two black-clad figures climbed in. Without speaking, Shields sprinted ahead to the front of the van and got in on the passenger side. Wallace held back just long enough to let Jackson climb in first, then hopped up behind her and eased the back doors shut. She nodded to Larsen, whose laptop was now stowed under one of the two long wooden benches that had been hastily bolted to either side of the van's cargo area. Larsen tapped twice on the divider that separated the cargo area from the driver's compartment. A second later the van rolled forward and pulled smoothly out into the road, accelerated to five miles-an-hour over the speed limit, and turned a corner.

The five women crammed onto the benches in the back grabbed for handholds.

"Hawkeye, we're rolling," Wallace said and then switched her comms to receive only.

"Is that it? Did we do it?" ex-Staff Sergeant Shawna Howe asked pointing at the lashed-together case that ex-Sargent Clarissa Jackson held between her knees.

"Not until we pick up Hawkeye and make it back to base," Wallace said.

"Sorry, m-" The 'ma'am' died on Howe's lips at Wallace's glare. Howe hadn't been the one to have the most trouble with the 'no ranks' rule, but being chastised obviously made her forget herself.

The van pulled around another corner and rolled to a stop. There was a tap on the back door and Jessica Howlett opened it to let ex-Corporal TJ "Hawkeye" Cooper scramble in and squeeze onto a spot on one of the benches. The door shut, Larsen tapped the divider again and the van pulled off.

After a minute, Mickey Shields tapped the breast pocket of her jacket and then sighed loudly. "Ever since I quit smoking, I don't know what the fuck to do at this point of a mission."

Everyone in the back of the van laughed, and the tension eased a couple of notches.

"I do. Here," Elaine Larsen said, and pulled two Hershey bars out of her jacket pocket. She unwrapped them and broke them into pieces which she handed around.

"One time after a mission, we landed and I really, really needed to pee," Howlett said, once everyone was munching the chocolate. "So I head over to the hanger to find out where the latrines are. Except I really, really needed to pee, because I'd been in the air for six hours and it had been a rough flight, lots of turbulence, bouncing all over the damn place. Plus, you know how your body knows when you're back on the ground, or you get out of the car after a long drive, and while a minute ago you just kinda had to pee, now you really, really gotta, like right now!" The other women all nodded. "So I'm looking around for someone to ask and I don't see anyone, and I'm looking around for the latrines and I can't find them. And I'm this close to going behind the hanger and just hoping no one walks by when I see a latrine marked 'Men' so I look around for a women's, because there's got to be one nearby, right? But I can't find it anywhere. And I try the door on the men's, but it's locked, and a voice from inside says, "Squeeze your wiener, I'll be out in a minute!" So by this time I'm dancing around with my legs crossed and still trying to find the ladies, and waiting for this guy to finish so I can use the men's and hoping someone comes by so that I can ask and not be there when he's done…"

Everyone in the back of the van was laughing by now, and Jessie Howlett paused for a moment.

"So what happened," Wallace asked once the chuckles died down.

"The guy finally finished, and the latrine door opened, and he was huge. Not just tall, but big, like how does he pass his PT tests big," Howlett held her hands out in front of her stomach to show what she meant. "And the smell that came out of that latrine was one of the worst stenches I have ever encountered. I don't know what the hell was going on with their mess hall, but whatever it was, it was naaasty. So all of a sudden I didn't need to pee quite so bad, because there was no way, and I mean no fucking way I was going into that latrine. So this huge guy is standing there, having trouble buckling his belt because he's so fat, but luckily he's a corporal, so I just look at him and say, "Corporal, where's the nearest women's latrine?"

"He salutes, 'cause I guess he figures the hanger counts as outside or something, and his pants nearly fall down because he hasn't got his belt buckled yet, and he turns three shades of purple and splutters, 'In the control tower building, ma'am.' But by this point I need to pee pretty bad, and the fumes have dissipated somewhat, and I think 'Fuck it, I can probably hold my breath for long enough'. So I say, 'Thank you Corporal, dismissed,' and he gets the hint and gets the fuck out of the way, and I go in and make damn sure the door is locked properly behind me, and I piss as fast as I can, because it still smells pretty bad in there, and hope he's out of sight by the time I'm done."

By the time Jessie had finished telling her story, the other four women in the back of the van were laughing so hard they had tears rolling down their faces.

“Now I gotta pee!” said Anita Juarez, and that cracked them all up again. Elaine Larsen caught Jessica Howlett’s eye and nodded slightly. Jessie grinned back and said, “Now that we’ve got the cash, the real fun starts.”


	2. Chapter 2

_…the President set the tone for his first term in office when he called the news media 'The enemy of the American people…'_

_…the President referred to some undocumented immigrants as "animals," saying "These aren't people. These are animals."_

_…it was revealed today that the President used the charity's money to pay legal settlements for his private business, to purchase a $10,000 portrait of himself that was displayed at one of his golf clubs, and to make a prohibited political donation…_

_…the current administration has granted security clearances to more than two dozen people who had initial been turned down by career White House officials…_

_…Pentagon officials said that the President's order to deploying 6000 troops to the border with Mexico is costing taxpayers $600 million, and that number is likely to climb…_

_…the government shutdown continues into its third week, with 800,000 federal employees going without pay over the holidays. The President says he will continue the shutdown until he gets funding for a border wall…_

_…A lawsuit brought by the House of Representatives against the President's national emergency declaration argues that his decision to use a national emergency declaration to transfer money from the military to fund the construction of his border wall violates the Appropriations Clause of the Constitution…_

_…we have learned that on at least one occasion in 2017, the President confiscated the notes from his interpreter and told the interpreter not to discuss the details of his conversation with the President of Russia…_

_…this morning on Twitter the President called for Florida to suspend its legally required recount and declare the Republican candidates for Senate and governor the winners of their respective races. He also, entirely without evidence, claimed that there was large scale voter fraud in Florida and other states where Republicans were defeated…_

_…the president asked his White House attorney to lie to the public, and applauded his press secretary, Sarah Sanders, after a briefing in which she made false statements about the firing of the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation…_

_…our investigation found multiple acts by the President that were capable of exerting undue influence over law enforcement investigations, including the Russia-interference and obstruction investigations. The president engaged in a series of targeted efforts to control the investigation…_

_…the President marked Memorial Day by pardoning several American military members convicted of war crimes…_

 

Lt. Colonel Allison Mackie, US Air Force Intelligence Operations, retired, and National Security Administration, also retired, pushed her chair back from her desk and snapped the lid of her laptop shut. She paced around her home office, taking long, deep breaths and telling herself to calm down, but it was futile. How could she calm down when America was descending — in some ways had already descended — into fascism? 

And it wasn't that no one had noticed. Many people had, except that most of them held no power, even at the ballot box. Despite an overwhelmingly Democratic Congress, the current administration had so badly hijacked the mechanisms of checks and balances that were meant to stop this kind of thing from happening that… Allison clenched her hands into fists to stop herself from screaming. She had waited and waited and waited for the process to work, but between Fox News, Breitbart, Facebook, and Twitter, the Right was shouting into its own echo chamber and the Left was so tired of fighting that apathy and despair had set in. And it looked more and more likely the incumbent was going to win his re-election bid this fall, thanks to unprecedented gerrymandering and voter suppression tactics. The country she loved was was becoming a dystopian nightmare.

Allison stopped pacing the room and looked at the walnut case on the wall that held her decorations. Along the top of the case was printed part of the US Air Force Motto, ‘Integrity First, Service Before Self.’ 

“But how can I serve my country when the Commander-in-Chief is actively destroying it with enmity and greed?” she said aloud into the quiet room. Staring at the case containing the record of her twenty years of military service, what came to mind was the oath she’d made and reaffirmed throughout her career. “I Allison Mackie, having been appointed Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; and that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same.”

'...all enemies foreign and domestic. All enemies. Not all enemies except the Commander-in-Chief. All enemies. He’s deporting American citizens and getting away with it. He’s threatening to jail journalists for writing the truth…' Allison thought.

'Service before self. True faith and allegiance... Honor demands action. Honor demands action.' The phrase rang in her head like a gong, louder and louder until she found herself saying it aloud. “Honor demands action.”

It took her the rest of the day to figure out exactly what kind of action to take, two more days to examine every angle and satisfy herself that there was no other option, and the rest of the week to put everything in place before she began to act. 

The first thing she needed to do was assemble a team.

~~~~~
    
    
    Hey Elaine, 
    	I want to talk to you about getting the band back together, but I only have your work email. Could you get in touch from your private account?
    						Thanks,
    							Allison

She’d used two separate anonymizers to create a Freelandia email account and accessed it through a VPN installed on a brand new laptop using the free WiFi in the Starbucks at the corner of 14th Street and Massachusetts Ave. in Washington, DC. It was as secure as she knew how to make it without spending a lot more time or money, neither of which she had. She got a reply the next day, also from a Freelandia account, containing nothing but a phone number with a DC area cell code. Allison drove to the biggest Walmart in the area, parked in the middle of the parking lot, and called from one of the four burner phones she had in her glove compartment.

When Captain Elaine Larsen, Naval Intelligence (retired), and ex-CIA Cyber Operations answered, the first thing she said was, “Is this about what I think it’s about?”

“If you think it’s about the First Amendment of the United States Constitution, then yes.”

“Only the First Amendment?”

“Well, the Fifth and Ninth and Fourteenth are looking pretty bad too.”

“Yes, yes they are. As is the Twenty-Fourth.”

“And then there’s Section Nine of Article One.”

“So, what are we going to do about it?

“I was thinking something… righteous.”

“Righteous," Elaine repeated slowly. "That has a very nice ring to it.”

“Thanks. But I just want your advice. I’m not asking you to be directly involved. You’ve got a family to think about.”

“I am thinking about my family. About what kind of America I want Megan and Tyler to grow up in. Whatever you’re talking about, I’m in."

“It’ll be weeks. Maybe months. And it will be dangerous.” Allison did want Elaine on board, but felt it was her duty make at least one determined effort to dissuade her friend.

“Idlib was dangerous.”

“Yeah, okay. When and where can we meet? I’ve got some ideas of other people to call, but not enough. And I doubt everyone I’m thinking of will be as easy to convince as you.”

“You might be surprised. Besides, you didn’t need to convince me, all you needed to do was give me the opportunity to act.”

“Honor requires action.”

“That it does. You’re in DC? I can be there on Saturday. Do you want me to get in touch with a couple of people I know in the meantime?”

“Yes, but...” Allison hesitated, wondering how to phrase this, “I don’t know who you have in mind, but I was thinking about keeping the team female. I think things will go more smoothly that way.”

“Interesting. Cuts down on the options a bit, but I can see your reasoning." Elaine was nodding slowly to herself. "It will make some things a lot easier... fewer egos being thrown around, that kind of thing.”

“Yes, and I also want to try to keep ranks out of it as much as possible.”

“I can see why, but that’s going to be tough if anyone we end up with is former enlisted personnel.”

“That’s the thing, there’s a Marine Corporal I know who’d be perfect, but if we do this, we have to do it on an equal footing. Everyone who’s in gets a say in how and where and when. Everyone gets a voice in the planning.” Allison explained her vision for the groups she was putting together. 

“On the plus side, that does actually gives me a few more ideas of people to call,” Elaine said thoughtfully.

“I know I don’t have to tell you to be discrete,” Allison said.

Elaine laughed. “No, you don’t. I do have to have a serious talk with my family, though. But I'm definitely coming. See you on Saturday.”

~~~~~

Elaine put the phone down and walked the six blocks back to her house. She opened the Family Calendar app on her regular phone and added “Emergency Family Meeting” to her husband’s and children's’ schedules for that night at eight o’clock. Then she went online to book a flight to DC.

“But you’ve been out of the Navy for years! How can they order you back?” asked sixteen-year-old Megan.

“Because when you get discharged, you sign a contract saying that you’ll go back if you get called,” Elaine explained. She hated lying to her kids, but in this instance, it might actually be life and death. Besides it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever done in service of her country, not by a long shot. And there might be even worse things to come, though she hoped not.

“They’re not sending you to the border to put asylum seekers in cages, are they? You can’t do that, Mom, it’s not right! You could go AWOL. We could move to Canada!”

“No, Tyler, it’s nothing like that, I promise. It’s a very special mission. I don’t know a lot about it yet, but I swear I won’t be doing anything bad to innocent people.”

“Not even if they order you to?” Megan asked.

“Not even. Because that would be an illegal order and I would refuse it,” Elaine said firmly.

Megan nodded and seemed satisfied. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know, but I’m hoping it won’t be very long. Probably not more than six months.” Elaine saw her husband Matt’s eyes widen a little, and knew she’d have more explaining to do later.

“Will you be able to call us on the satellite phone, like you did when you were in Idlib?” Tyler wanted to know.

“I don’t know, I hope so. I will if I can. Now, let’s talk about chores and how you guys are going to help dad while I’m away.” She got groans for that, but the kids did agree to pitch in and help. She’d been deployed twice while they were younger, and that had been hard on Matt. Hopefully this would be easier. And shorter. Much shorter.

That night in bed, Matt turned to her, “Is it really a deployment?”

Elaine looked at him for a long moment and then asked, “How much do you want to know?”

Matt considered this seriously and then instead of answering, asked, “Do you want to go?”

“I don’t want to leave you and the kids, you know that, but I do want to do this. It’s important. Very important.”

“So it really is a mission?” Matt said, seeming surprised.

“An unofficial one.”

“Unofficial as in Black Ops or unofficial as in unsanctioned, or...?”

“Unofficial as in I’m officially a civilian, but I’m also honor-bound to defend the constitution of the United States of America, and honor demands action.”

Matt blinked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to overthrow the government?”

“Okay, I won’t. I don’t actually know what we’re going to do, but I do know that we’re going to do something. Somebody has to and it might as well be me, and people I trust.”

“Yeah, okay. Go get ‘em, tiger. Just,” he said, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. “Don’t die.”

“I won’t. I’m way too smart and way too tough, you know that.”


End file.
